


Two fathers, two sons

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-21
Updated: 2003-08-21
Packaged: 2018-11-20 23:59:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11345835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Two fathers, two sons

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Two fathers, two sons

### Two fathers, two sons

#### by Bertie and Leather Alex

  


Title: Two Fathers, Two Sons (part 2)  
Authors: Bertie and Leather Alex  
Emails: and Status: WIP  
Archive: sure  
Category: Male pregnancy  
Note: For Ursula. Bertie is Skinner and Mulder; Leather Alex is Krycek. Thanks to Ursula for beta. 

**WASHINGTON, D.C.; NOVEMBER 8, 1994**

**ALEX**

The bar is quite deserted this early and it doesn't seem there will be much more visitors to this place tonight, either. I hate rainy autumn evenings even when I don't have to work outdoors. This is exactly such a night. 

I have nothing to do. I'm bored with my TV and computer. I'd say I almost never get a job anymore. Two visual surveillances and one surreptitious entry, and that's all for three months now. Okay, a couple of computer jobs but those were so small they don't count. I can't understand what's going on. They can't just... get rid of me. Okay, Spender wouldn't, but what if this goes too far? 

I didn't fuck up with the FBI. I gained Mulder's trust; nobody could get that far before me. I gave the correct evaluations. I held Mulder back long enough to prevent him rushing into our people on Skyland Mountain, and Spender never even knew about Skinner and me. However, right after I left the FBI, all the shit started. The way Spender treats me now, their attitude about my worthiness, even my strange illness. 

My partners are getting closer with each other while I keep away, because I'm not included. I don't have to do the job. Seems Louis has started to think of himself as being superior compared to me. Yeah right, it would be anyone but him! 

Even my sex drive is pathetic, especially after those two G-men. I had become used to them. I enjoyed being with them. Okay, fuck, I can admit now that I still miss them, so what? It doesn't mean I'm in love or any other rubbish like that. 

The bartender stops in front of me; he's looking at me and when I turn my wandering eyes on him, he waves at my glass. It's empty. 

"Yeah, another one. The same." 

I like the taste of vodka with lemon. I don't care if somebody says it's nothing more than home-brewed shit. I could call the man's whiskey the same. Vodka is pure... like ice. And strong; it's a joke to drink beer or wine. 

I play with the new, full glass in my hand. Then lift it to my lips. And feel the fucking sickness building somewhere deep in me. Shit, can't it leave me alone for a fucking while? 

I take a gulp. 

* * *

**SKINNER**

I step into a bar, out of the blue, wanting a drink after that last meeting. It's fairly slow for early evening. I see someone I think I know and then do a double take as I realize who it is. 

"Krycek," I growl into his ear when I move closer to his seated form on the stool. He looks like he's gained a few pounds since he's disappeared. The little prick has the audacity to look scared. He better be scared of me! 

"I think you know the drill," I say to him, grabbing his drink and finishing it for him. 

"Hey, that was mine!" he whines. 

Boy, I'd like to make him whine, but no way do I want to be accused of police brutality. 

"Save it for someone who cares, Krycek." 

He sighs then stands up, moving slowly, as if he's been ill lately. From the look of him, he probably has. 

"Geez, are you contagious? I'd hate to have picked up something from you," I sneer at him. 

He looks put out and I want to smash that pretty pout from his face. "No, I've not been my most exhuberient, though." 

So I turn him around bodily and start cuffing his hands behind his back. I start reading him his rights. 

"Do you always keeps cuffs on you, Walter?" he asks sarcastically, though there's a lilt in his voice. 

I ignore him as the bartender takes notice of us finally and I flash him my badge. He lifts his hands and turns back to his customer. 

"You know you can't keep me long, Skinner. You may as well save yourself the headache and just let me go." 

"What? And miss the opportunity to pound," I stop, realizing there are witnesses and finish with, "answers out of you?" 

He sighs then gives up struggling. I maneuver him out of the bar and into my car. 

* * *

**MULDER**

I wasn't expecting anyone, so I'm surprised when someone knocks on my door. I stop researching the latest case, which I wouldn't be capable of doing if Scully hadn't woken from her coma. I'm so glad she is well, relatively, and being taken care of by her family. I know it's selfish of me to want her with me, but she is all I have right now since I've learned X seems to be a part of the conspiracy. 

I open the door and step back to allow Skinner in, who apparently is bearing gifts. 

"Sir, you shouldn't have." 

I say sardonically while looking at the traitor who looks a little worse for wear. I wonder where Skinner's been keeping him. 

"Did you drudge him up in a sewer, sir? He looks a little peaked." 

"I found him in a bar drinking vodka," he growls. 

I snort. How appropos. 

"You know he won't survive in a lock up, sir. What should we do with him? My place isn't the best for safe keeping something." 

Skinner barks a laugh. "Maybe you should move, Mulder." 

"Is that an order, sir?" 

"How about a place that I know of, far from the big city. It's a cabin in Shanandoah National Park. For miles there is nothing. You can scream for hours and no one can hear you." 

He directs that last bit to Alex who shivers. Hell, that voice has sent a chill down my spine too. 

"I'll need to get ready, sir." 

"Ok, meet me at my place in an hour. I'll need to get ready too. Want to keep your present for a while?" 

I nod, wondering what I've done to deserve such gifts. 

When Skinner leaves, I look down at someone who, though I knew he was playing me, I never thought he would betray me as he did. 

"I didn't know you'd have the balls to stay so close to DC, let alone anywhere in Virginia, Alex." 

He sneers at me. "Hey, I go where I'm told!" 

"Hm, into sadomasochism games, Krycek?" 

* * *

**ALEX**

"Want to know if I will enjoy myself while you both will be skinning me alive in your fucking national park? No." 

Mulder doesn't say anything more, just looks at me with eyes, promising a lot of stuff and most of it really unpleasant. Then he walks into his room. 

Trying to run with the cuffs on is just not an option. Skinner has the key, and to manipulate him to free me... yeah, dream on. So, probably, I just will have to endure whatever they have prepared for me. Fuck. I wonder how much I have pissed them off. According to Spender's words, majorly. 

Sitting on the floor cuffed to the heating pipe, I watch Mulder packing. Not that I see the bag, but he's moving things around. I haven't caught a glimpse of any whip or anything suitable for a dungeon yet, but then, as far as I know about these two, Skinner would be most likely the provider of the torture equipment. 

Fuck. 

Surely they are gonna beat me. Rape I don't mind at all; can't imagine they would get along without a piece of ass from me. But, can they possibly be into real torture? 

If fucking Major Jarvis from the Pentagon was and allowed himself to nearly kill me, why wouldn't they? 

Then I'm up shit creek without a paddle. 

"I don't know anything, Mulder," I start in a pretty soft voice as his denim clad sexy ass dances past me, "you can torture me to death and still I won't be able to tell you things I don't know. I just did what I was told to, I had no choice. They never explained anything to me." 

The pathetic undertone in my voice comes naturally, imagining Skinner with a bullwhip. 

Mulder comes back out, a half-folded sweater in his hands. 

"They? Who are `they'?" 

"A man who gives me orders," I lift my eyes to Mulder. A couple of tricks have told me I sometimes look like an angel; I guess even a little resemblance with that angel, okay, fine, a fallen one, would do me a big favor right now. "He is a very powerful man. I had no rights at all." 

He looks at me for awhile, then turns around and walks back into the room. 

"Please, Mulder," I call after him. 

"I know who your superior is," comes from the room; the fucker sounds almost cheerful. 

"Then what do you want to know from me?" I ask pathetically, in keeping with the role I was playing for him. 

He appears again and slips down beside me, breaking into my private space. 

"Everything you don't know, Alex." 

I hate that frigging calm voice. 

"And you will tell me all what you don't know. Believe me," he pats my cheek. 

Asshole. 

"I haven't been fucking told..." I start and he cuts me off on half word. 

"Turn off the comedy routine, Krycek. You can't be thinking I believe your bullshit. Or that waving your eyelashes might help you one single bit. I'm way over it. It. Won't. Work." 

I think I could break his neck. 

* * *

**MULDER**

I'm enjoying scaring him, though I doubt he's all that scared. Skinner wouldn't let me use any real torture on him, but that's not my style anyway. I have no idea what he'd want to do to the scum sucker, though. I don't think he'd get violent with him... 

"Mulder, uh, I don't feel so..." I see the little bastard choking. Maybe he isn't faking. I grab a trashcan just as he pukes. 

"What's wrong with you? Fucked someone who left you a present, Alex?" 

He glares at me but I take pity on him and go fetch a cloth that I wet and give it to him to wipe down his face. I take the damp rag back and get a glass of water for him. He gulps it down then shivers. I'm a little perturbed at how easy this is for me. I think it's probably the time Scully was... no, I won't go there. It'll just piss me off more. 

"Gaah! Damn, that was awful," he moans. 

"Have you been throwing up regularly, Krycek?" I ask, suddenly concerned for the prick. 

He shrugs then sighs. "Yeah." 

"Just lovely." I put my hand on his forehead. He wasn't hot or very warm at all. "It must be some kinda stomach bug." 

He doesn't assist me in my musing. 

"Mulder, if you take me away, you know they'll be looking for me. I'm supposed to report back every few days." 

"What? They wouldn't accept a phone call from their darling long lost peon?" 

He sighs. "That's my point, Mulder. They don't give lackeys the information you'll be looking for. In fact, I haven't been used a lot lately." 

"Well, no wonder, with your lovely personality and your healthy disposition, Krycek." 

I get up and finish packing a small case then place my shaving kit under his arm. "Come on, be useful for a change." 

He rolls his eyes and presses the kit closer to his body. I grin at him, hopefully in not a good way, then escort him out the door to my car. 

* * *

**SKINNER**

They finally show up, I was afraid I'd have to call them. I've already made arrangements for both Mulder and myself to be off tomorrow, but I will have to return in a day. Seems like an AD's job is never done. 

I get in my car as Mulder waits for me. In no time, we're down the road and he's following me, not too close to attract attention. 

It's approximately a three and a half hour drive from my condo. I packed some food for us for the next two days but I think Mulder would be going shopping tomorrow. I don't know when I'll be able to get back after that. 

* * *

**SHANANDOAH NATIONAL PARK, USA**

Krycek is locked up in a room by himself while Mulder and I unpack everything. I had stopped at a gas station to ask if they were hungry. Mulder wasn't but Krycek asked for a chilidog. Mulder raised his eyebrow at that but didn't say anything. We waited as Mulder fed the dog to Krycek then gave him a few sips of a soda. 

"Let's go, sir." 

Krycek pouted but we couldn't have cared less. 

After we unpacked everything, I went to see how our little captive is doing. I unlock the door and I see him startle from his pacing up and down. I suddenly remember something and pull out some padded cuffs from my inner suit coat pocket. He looks uncertain for a moment then a gleam appears in his eyes. 

"It's not what you think, Krycek. I may want to knock some sense into you, but Mulder and I are a little tired. We both worked a full day today and want some rest. Don't worry, tomorrow is another day to start grilling our favorite rat bastard over a fire." 

I think the bastard is actually upset that I don't have plans to fuck him after tying him down on the little bed he has in this room. This was a storage closet that was remodeled into a small bedroom for my nephew to stay in when my brother used to go fishing and camping years ago. Without windows, it's a safe place to keep Krycek. 

He actually relaxes when I take the cuffs off his wrists. He rubs them, which I let him do before placing the padded cuffs over his wrists, but this time they're in front. I actually think about wanting to see his body stretched over that single bed tied down to the bed posts, but I notice the boy is looking a little heavier than he was a couple of months ago. 

"You hungry?" 

"Yeah. And I could do with a beer." 

"Sorry, no beer. Mulder and I have to stay sharp with you around." 

"I'm touched, Skinner. Coffee would be good then." 

I shrug then leave him to get food and coffee for my prisoner. Mulder has started an impromptu supper of spaghetti. He seems to be doing well, so I start on the coffee. 

"Oh, good, I was dying for some java." 

I raise my brows, not about to question why anyone would want coffee so late in the day. I would be bouncing off the walls if I had coffee this late. No wonder Mulder has long nights. 

I serve a plate for our prisoner first and take the coffee along back to Krycek who is sitting on the bed, bored. 

"Here you go. I think Mulder did well." 

Krycek shrugs and reaches for the food. I set the coffee on the little lamp stand next to the bed. 

"Bon appetite," I tell him, before going back to feed myself. I'm glad I brought those sturdy plastic forks. No way will I give that bastard an opportunity to use a real fork as a weapon. 

* * *

**ALEX**

I start with the food Skinner has brought me; the smell of the tomato sauce almost brings the sickness up again. I would have given a lot for a lemon... or an orange right now. But then I probably should be happy that I was fed something at all. 

I need alcohol. If I have no escape, I don't want to think about what they will do to me at least. They always have beer... could've given me a couple too, still it's better than nothing. Even the ones on death row get their last cigarette. Okay, that's a stretch. Hopefully. 

I turn my whole atttention back to the food. Despite the sauce, it doesn't take long to finish it. Can't say yet that I was full. Fuck, since when have I become so voracious? 

I put the plate aside and take the coffee. It's quite strong - the way Mulder likes it. I start to sip it, then put it away on the lamp stand and lie down. 

Coffee works like a catalyzer on my sickness. Where the fuck was my brain when I asked for it? It never used to calm me down; I just enjoyed the boost of energy it gave me normally in the mornings when I was sleepy. 

The idea of not being able to retreat to sleep freaks me out. At that moment, I hear the door being unlocked and raise my head. It's Mulder, after the dishes. 

He takes them away, then returns. 

Have they both had some kind of communication problems out there and he doesn't know the skinning has been delayed till tomorrow? 

I lift my eyes to him. 

He stands and watches me. 

"How did you come to work for Smith?" At last he speaks. 

His pause gives me time to try to gather my brain cells and understand what the hell he is asking and why. 

"How much does he pay you?" he continues. 

Wow, I guess it's the first time anyone asks about my salary. 

Like if I had to sign the papers monthly, before gathering my ten thousand bucks, or whatever much he thinks I'm being paid. 

It's hilarious. 

"I don't have salary," I answer and put my head back on the pillow, "and my consent wasn't necessary when I was recruited." 

"Poor little slave," his voice obtains some color, "working all asses and elbows without being paid." 

I must not piss him off. So I keep my mouth shut. 

"Does he have your little innocent soul you're trying to liberate while working for him?" 

Just keep my mouth shut... keep shut. 

"You're not going to answer me, are you? Okay, fine. That can wait. Then tell me, what are you doing besides lying, betraying, backstabbing and lighting his cigarettes?" 

"I do what I am told." 

"Like what?" 

"Mulder, look, I'm just a..." 

"You know, you could as well tell me the truth - is he SCREWING YOU?!" 

Okay, now he's angry. 

"You're his fucking assboy," the assault goes on. 

Oh, shit, it seems our sexy FBI agent is jealous. 

I wonder if he has found out about Skinner yet. 

"And you're a whore, right? He points with his finger to who he wants you to fuck, and you spread your legs, don't you?" 

Is this some kind of fucking moment of truth or what? I don't feel like giving him that. I feel like throwing up, actually. 

"It isn't like that, Mulder," I protest, quite weakly in comparison to his strident anger; I don't think I could convince him anyway. Maybe he has come to smash my face in retaliation for the fake attraction I had for him while we worked together. 

"What isn't like that, Krycek? He doesn't point with his finger? He gives you a photo instead?" 

"I liked you, really, Mulder. I still do." 

The look he gives me contains so much of everything, including contempt and an obvious desire to pull me inside out and expose in his little basement office as a warning to other young double-crossing agents. Still, I'm not gonna crawl into the mattress and through the concrete afterwards just because someone doesn't want me above ground. Sorry, I don't feel good enough for that. 

Then he leaves. 

Big mistake, Sasha. Is it really so hard to learn to keep your mouth shut? 

I curl in a ball and close my eyes, fighting the permanent fucking urge to throw up. 

* * *

Pieces of meat, stinking. All around the place. 

The chopping machines are way too big. 

No. 

Please. 

NO! 

Horror strangling my throat, I wake. The relief soothes me just for a split second. 

Then it starts. As every morning. Crap. I'd rather not wake up any more if this is about to continue. 

I put my head back on the pillow. Doesn't help any. I really should remain unconscious in the mornings... wake up when it's over, when I can breathe and sit up and feel like a human in my own skin again. 

Dream on. 

My guts are intertwined in a friendly fashion and sending everything else up. A headache joins the happy company as a free bonus. 

I curl in a ball. Now probably just that promised grilling over the fire is missing, or whatever the bastards have planned. Pulling my legs closer to the stomach, I hide my face in the pillow. 

The strategic question is, where to throw up. They have left me nothing. Fine. Bonking the door is not my style... if I can help it, of course. And I surely can. I'm not gonna call anyone; I don't need anyone, fuck them. 

They will have to clean the mess. 

I turn around, on my other side. 

I will survive. No matter what they will do to me, I will. 

Something is shaking in my body, inside or outside I don't know. Maybe I am trembling. Maybe it's my guts preparing another damn hell for me. 

The sickness and my fear are growing proportionally. 

I wish I were a bug to run away and hide. 

And bugs don't throw up, do they? 

They get squashed. 

I'm ready to scream. I can't handle this. Fuck, I can't endure this any more. 

It's almost relief when I understand it's time. I roll out of the bed, by old habit on my shoulder, and crawl into the corner. 

It feels slighlty better after I'm done. I don't return to bed though, but stay on the floor, pressing my head against the cool wall. What's the use? If I won't throw up again, soon they'd be coming after me anyway. Maybe they won't beat a dying man. So, let them watch. 

* * *

**SKINNER**

Fuck, what the hell is wrong with that little prick? Shit, he's burning up! 

"Come on, Alex." I lift Alex from the corner, seeing the mess, and quickly take him to the bathroom. I lay him in the tub and grab a washcloth, wetting it. I wash his face then go find a glass in the kitchen for him. I bring it with ice water and let him drink. 

"What's going on?" Mulder asks. He's standing just inside the bathroom door. 

"I need you to call Dr. Travis; his number is (777) 555-6768. Krycek's sick." 

"You don't think he's faking it?" 

"No." 

"You trust this Dr. Travis?" 

"Yeah, he's an old Army buddy of mine." 

Mulder shrugs and goes to the phone. I return to nurse-maiding our prisoner. 

Alex is beginning to look better. I sigh in relief. 

"Hey there. Feeling better?" 

He nods, fluttering those sinfully long lashes at me. This is not the time to find him remotely attractive. 

"Are you hungry? I'm not sure if you should eat, though. Hopefully, my old friend Frank Travis can take a look at you, see if you're OK." 

He looks at me questioningly. 

"Don't worry; he's a doctor- general practitioner. He owes me a few favors." 

He nods but tries to rise. 

"Wait, uh, you wanna take a shower? I'll take those cuffs off you." 

"Thanks," he croaks. Now I am beginning to think he's faking it. 

I take the cuffs off and, moving to sit on the toilet, I say, "I'll sit over here, you can undress yourself." 

Mulder enters and lifts his brows at Alex taking off his clothes in the shower, the cuffs in my hands. I ignore him and ask, 

"Any news?" 

"He said he'll be here in about two hours, sir." 

"Maybe it was just a temporary stomach flew, but it's best to be safe than sorry." 

Mulder pouts, clearly upset that his time to interrogate our prisoner has been cut short. 

"Hey, if you want to be useful, go clean up the mess in his room." 

Mulder gives a long- suffering sigh and leaves in a huff. Sometimes it's good to be the boss. 

* * *

**MULDER**

The smug bastard probably couldn't wait to see Alex showering. I sigh, knowing I'm still upset about last night. Is Alex Smith's personal fuck toy? The little bastard wouldn't give me a straight answer. Clearly he has something to hide. 

I find some cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink and put on some plastic gloves. I fill a small bucket with warm water then pour in some cleaner and schlep it over to Krycek's room. 

I mop up the mess then dry the floor. Skinner better give me some brownie points for this. I grin, imagining Skinner putting a gold star by my name in his office. 

Damn, unbidden, an image of my favorite fantasy rears its ugly head. Me, ass upwards over that huge desk, my pants around my ankles, and Walter paddling my ass then fucking it until I spray all over his papers. I blush while I put away the stuff. 

Skinner looks out the bathroom door and says, "Hey, do you think you can let him borrow a pair of your sweats?" 

I say instantly, "Yes, sir, right away, sir." 

He rolls his eyes and shuts the door. 

Oh well, so much for lightening up the situation. 

* * *

**SKINNER**

When Frank arrives, Alex is in bed, looking much better. He's eaten some eggs and fruit and I wonder if calling Frank was a good idea after all. 

"Good to see you, Walter." Frank opens his arms wide, like he usually does when he greets me. 

"Good to see you too, Frank." 

"Another witness, Walter?" 

"Something like that." 

Frank just nods and looks down at Alex who looks a bit concerned. I wonder if he is hiding something, then laugh at myself. Of course he's hiding something. 

"Well, I'll check his vitals first." He smiles at Alex and asks, "You were ill this morning? Have you been sick for a long time?" 

"Yes, seems to have gotten worse though not better. Mostly mornings are the worst." 

"Hm. I want to check your temperature and your pulse if that's OK." 

Alex shrugs and Frank takes a thermometer out of his bag and places it on Alex's tongue. He then gets a stethoscope and places it on Alex's arm while listening. He takes Alex's wrist and pauses. After a minute or two, he lets go of Alex's wrist then lifts the stethoscope. 

"Well, his pulse rate seems normal. I don't have a way to check for his blood pressure, though. Do you mind sitting up?" 

Alex sits up and Frank says, "I'm just checking your lungs." 

He places the stethoscope on Alex's back and says, "Deep breath." 

He changes the location of the stethoscope and repeats the direction. Then he moves to Alex's front and does the same to Alex's chest. 

"Well, his lungs are clear." 

He motions for Alex to lie back and then his hand moves down Alex's abdomen. Alex has gained a bit of weight since he betrayed us. Suddenly Alex shifts away from Frank's hand. 

"Does that hurt?" 

Alex shakes his head. "It feels sensitive, though." 

"Hm." Frank lifts Alex's shirt and then he sees a change in skin color, fairly slight, right across Alex's lower pelvis. 

"Did you have surgery recently?" 

Alex looks frightened but he sighs and admits, "Yes, I've had surgery. I think it's just a tracking device." He says that last part, looking at me. 

Mulder exhales loudly behind me. "Just great! Sir, we probably have been tracked these past few days." 

"It's an unusual place for a tracking device to be located." Frank says this, looking in my eyes. "If you want to take the chance, I can check him more thoroughly using an ultrasound." 

"Damn, Frank, that would put him too out in the open. If it is a tracking device, though, I'd want it removed ASAP." 

I sigh loudly, seeing no other choice in the matter. Alex had to be in a hospital whether it was a tracking device or not. 

Mulder doesn't look happy but neither do I. We have no choice at this moment. 

Frank walks with me to the front door. "It's after hours at my clinic now, Walter. By the time we get there, most of the staff will be gone. I could probably just use the obstetric ultrasound on him; it would show just as easily and not be as cumbersome using the other equipment." 

"Alright. Let me and Mulder get him ready, we'll follow you." 

Frank nods, returning to his car to put away his bag. 

* * *

**MULDER**

Finally, we arrive at Frank's clinic. Everyone's gone except for a cleaning lady who will leave shortly. We're all tense and nervous. 

Frank leads us to a room in his clinic that has equipment set up to one side of the room. I smile at the stirrups in the hospital bed and try to stifle a giggle at imagining Alex's feet in them, legs spread wide for the doctor to examine him. 

Alex frowns as he lies back on the hospital bed. Frank turns on the equipment then lifts Alex's shirt. He takes some surgical jelly and slides it over Alex's abdomen. Frank breaths on the implement he lifts up and then begins to slide it over Alex's flesh. Frank hmms a bit more and I want to hit him. Nothing is showing up on the screen. He adds more jelly to Alex then slides it over further, making an adjustment to the equipment. 

An image appears on the screen and Frank gasps. 

"Uh, Walter, unless I'm mistaken, that isn't a tracking device." 

"What? What are you saying, Frank?" 

"I doubt the equipment is faulty, but I think we have a fetus in your witness's abdomen." 

Alex sits up. "What?!" 

I laugh. "Looks like you're an X-File, Alex." 

I look over at Skinner who looks shocked. 

* * *

**ALEX**

"Go fuck yourself, you X-File!" I shout at Mulder. My feet already on the floor, I turn my head to Skinner and his fucking quack doctor. "It's not funny, you idiots. Get this shit off me," I lift my cuffed hands at Skinner, "and let me fucking go! I'm not gonna be your pathetic joke, you sick fucks!" 

"Get back up there," Skinner blocks my way. "Back. Up. NOW." 

"Fuck you," I spit into his face. 

"Oh, yes, I will fuck YOU right now if you won't obey my orders," he growls and grabs me by my shoulders, pushing me back, and up. 

He is somehow... mild towards me... as if I were fragile... it freaks me out. 

"Stop the fucking play-acting now," I yell. "Just let me go! Please, let me go!" 

"This isn't an act, not in the least," the quack doctor quacks behind my back. "You are pregnant, young man." 

Skinner slowly, but methodically pushes me up. Mulder has woken from his half-ecstatic stupor, and is giving him a hand in holding me down. Can I fucking fight them both with my hands cuffed? 

The last words of that idiot are swelling me all into battle. 

"Are you getting off on this or what?" I try to hit Skinner, while they are pulling me on the frigging table, pissed off. "How long will this spook show last before you shoot?" 

"Frank, please turn the display so that he can see it too." I feel Skinner can barely restrain himself. He is about to beat me into a bloody pulp. Fucker. "Let me clear it up a moment. What is it there in his abdomen?" 

They can't be serious. Of course they aren't. I am a man. Men don't have babies. 

They are getting off on the show. Like "spy and interrogator". Or "daddy and boy". They are getting off on "Krycek the pregnant girl." 

Bastards. 

While they are holding me down, the doctor runs that implement over me again. 

Then it occurs to me. They wouldn't be showing me the screen. 

How are they supposed to fake the screen? They would have a VCR attached to it then. 

I follow the wires attached to the display with my eyes. None of them ends up where I can't see it. None of them disappears from view. It can't be faked. 

When an image appears on the display, my blood goes cold. This can't be real. I must be dreaming. This can't be happening. There must be some kind of different explanation for this. 

"I'm sorry," I hear the doctor's voice again, like in a bad dream, "but I didn't notice the second one before." 

What second one? 

My breath quickens. 

"There isn't just one fetus in his abdomen, there are two... yes, clearly, two. Wait a moment, I will take the measurements. I have biometric analysis programs here." 

There is something floating in me, clearly. I want to smash that fucking display, but I'm not sure if right now I have strength enough to raise my arm. This can't be happening. I look at Mulder, then at Walter, as if waiting for them to tell me this is not truth. 

Actually, I feel like pressing my face against Walter's chest and crying right now... he would tell me that it all was just a nightmare... a joke. Yes, a joke. 

Yet the nightmare continues. 

"So the BPD is... hmmm... the FL..." the fucking doctor is muttering under his nose, "I see... according to the measurements the fetuses seem pretty normal... the development... hmm... even surprisingly well meets the standards... the uterus..." 

Uterus??? I feel like grabbing my head and howling if my arms weren't cuffed and pinned down by those two morons who are gaping at their damn doctor as if he was some kind of prophet. 

"Fetal body measurements reflect the gestational age of the fetus." Did that doctor expect me to listen to him by saying that to me? "So, according to the measurements, he's in the fifteenth week of pregnancy right now. The EDC... estimated date of confinement would be around the 24th of April, plus or minus eight days. That is, if the babies developed the way they would develop under... normal circumstances. Up to now they have developed normally," the doctor lifts his head. "I guess you are interested to know the possible date of conception." He bends his head again. "That would be 1st of August... plus or minus eight days again." 

Everything he is saying just runs through my brain. I don't care when it happened. It changes nothing. 

Slowly I'm trying to get a grasp on the reality, whatever awful that may be. 

I'm pregnant. I. Am. Pregnant. 

**HOW???**

The fucking doctor probably has the same question in his mind because he bends over me and speaks, in a disgustingly low, almost compassionate voice. 

"The fetuses are healthy inside you." Oh yes, thank you, this doesn't make me feel better, you moron. "But I really can't understand how this could have happened. Were you born male?" 

Mulder and Walter prevent me from plunging my teeth into his throat. Lying back on the table, I feel their eyes on me. The humiliation is so all-consuming, that I lower my gaze and close my eyes. I feel tears are building behind the lids, trying to break out and trickle down my face. 

I can't cry in the presence of these men. 

"Let's go," I hear Mulder's voice. 

"Wait, I must talk to Frank first," Walter answers. I hear his voice and the voice of the doctor more and more distantly. 

I try to breathe. To gather some self-control, some peace of mind. I need to understand what has happened and what to do about it. 

"Get up, Alex." It's Mulder. He is pressing my hand reassuringly. 

I sit up. 

My brain has started to work with a jolt. 

Task No.1 - To get rid of the fetuses. 

Task No.2 - To kill Spender. 

Okay, let's try again. 

The Spender killing is unlikely and, what's much more important, there isn't a safe way to carry that out. 

Task No.1, on the contrary, requests immediate accomplishment. 

"Mulder," I turn my head to the man, "I will give you information. I don't know much, but what I do know, it will still be useful for you. Please talk to that doctor. Tell him I'm... sorry. Talk to him. Please, I must get rid of these fetuses." 

"Once a killer, always a killer?" That's Skinner's voice, from behind. "Enough with that shit. We're leaving." 

Yes, here he is, back. 

"I am pregnant!" I shout, glaring at him. "Don't you understand? I am fucking pregnant!" 

"You're the last one to make that revelation. Let's go now." He takes my upper arm. 

I yank my arm out of his hand. "I'm going nowhere. I'm a man, don't you see? Men DON'T HAVE babies. I'm not gonna go around fucking pregnant like this. NO WAY! I WANT TO GET RID OF THOSE FUCKING PARASITES!" I scream at the top of my lungs. 

"Shut up!" Skinner growls and grabs me again. 

I don't take the risk of hitting him. And then, that would just make things worse. 

"I don't want them. You understand, I DON'T WANT them?" I shout and continue to struggle my hand out of his grip. At this moment the doctor enters the room. "Please, Sir, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry I tried to attack you. Please, Sir, could you abort them?" I try to plead with him. 

Skinner's fingers dig deeper into my flesh. 

"You're over the first trimester, boy," he barks. "It is too late for an abortion." 

His fucking buddy doctor nods in agreement. 

"Bastards!" I yell. "Fucking assholes, I wish you were pregnant!" 

"Please, Frank, maybe you have some sedatives? Applicable for expectant mothers?" 

"I will kill you, Walter! I will fucking kill you!" I wail. They are insane. "What are you going to do with me? Better let me have that abortion. You can't keep me. That is stupid!" 

"We will see about that," Skinner growls. 

This is the last time I go to a doctor. Ever. 

**TBC**   
  

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Bertie and Leather Alex


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